Murder House
by Jcaslcgaiwd
Summary: Sherlock and John move into a new house after a tragic event, but this charming home isn't all it seems. (DISCONTINUED until I get more reviews, requests, or alerts.)
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I was bored and this was the result. Yes, their will be some similarities between the two, but that's okay! I hope you enjoy.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

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Sherlock walked inside, putting down the groceries. He sighed, tired from his shopping trip. He sighs, putting on the kettle. A loud bump from upstairs makes him jump and immediately he grabs his cellphone. Sherlock dials 9-1-1 and waits for them to answer.

"9-9-9, what's your emergency?" The lady asks calmly.

"Someone's in my house." He whispers in a panicked tone.

"Are you sure it's not a family member?"

"No, no. It's just me. My husband is at work and my kid's at school."

"Okay, sir, remain calm. Tell us your address and stay where you are." He tells them then hangs up, grabbing a knife. He was much more paranoid now since the accident. He felt like he just wasn't safe anymore. As if the world was out to get him. He creeps up the stairs, going towards the noise.

He raised an eyebrow when he noticed it was coming from the bedroom. He pushes the door open slowly, then gasps. He turns away from the room, his eyes filling with angry tears. John comes out, panic and sympathy in his blue eyes. His hair was rumpled and he was panting loudly still.

Lipstick traced his cheeks and his boxers were thrown on in a rushed manner, being crooked on his hips. He grabs his mate's arm, trying to make eye contact

"Sherlock, I'm sorry. I didn't mean t-" Sherlock pushes him, cutting John's chest a bit my accident. Sherlock runs downstairs and John watches, hating himself.

* * *

The cars rolled by their window, all going to different places and trying to get their fast. John was driving, while Sherlock sat in the passenger seat, while Sherlock stared out the window. He was lost in thought, again. Their daughter, Charlotte, sat in the back. She had her headphones in and was slowly dosing off. Sherlock and John had adopted her when she was nine. Now she was sixteen.

She was a good girl, had steady grades, and loved both of her Dad's. She had long brown hair and chocolate-brown eyes. She didn't have a lot of friends, not really getting along with people very well. Sherlock was hoping this could be a new start for her. Well, actually all of them.

"Hey, I'm hungry." She pipes up, taking her ear buds out.

"Nice to meet you, hungry." John laughs and she rolls her eyes. Typical teenager.

"No, seriously. Can we get some food?"

"Not yet, plus we're almost there." Sherlock says with a smile.

"I can't believe this shit."

"Oi! Only your Father's allowed to say that." Sherlock jokes and John chuckles. "Just hang in there, Charlie, then we can eat in our new kitchen." That's what everyone called her, Charlie.

"Fine, but it better be a nice ass kitchen."

"Hey, with the language!"

"Sorry, Dad." She lays he'd head against the window again closing her eyes. John takes his right hand off the steering wheel, reaching for Sherlock's. He grabs his hand in his, but the detective pulls away. John sighs, feeling terrible again. Sherlock holds back tears.

* * *

They arrive at the house, gaping at it. It was a gigantic house that was clearly larger than what they needed. The three exit the car, meeting the sales woman at the door. Charlie smiles, loving the Los Angeles heat. The sales woman leads them inside. She rambles on about how the house was built in the 1920s and that the original owner had been a doctor.

"I have to tell you about the previous owners." She says in a solemn tone.

"Oh God, what happened to them?" John asks, slightly worried.

"They died here. Both committed suicide, in the basement. It was quite sad and to make matters worse, I was the one who had sold them the house." John and Sherlock are a bit skeptical, that particular story making them nervous. It's Charlie who makes the final decision.

"We'll take it. I mean, ghosts aren't real, right?"

"Of course not!" The sales woman says with a wave of a hand and a smile. "Well, I shall leave you to it." She exits through the front door, her heels clicking the whole way.

"Well, this is it. Our new life." John states, hugging the two of them. He notices Sherlock is slightly tense, but stays in the embrace for her sake.

For Charlie.

* * *

"You start school Monday, Charlie." Sherlock says, taking another bite of his pizza. She sighs in reply. "It's a nice public school and I thin you'll like it. If not, we can always transfer or home school you. Can you give this school a chance, please?"

"Fine, but only because you asked me to." She finishes her pizza and soda, standing up. "I'm going to bed now. Goodnight." She kisses both of them, exiting the kitchen. She notices the door under the stair case.

"A basement. Awesome." She whispers, turning the knob. It's unlocked so she looks down. It was pitch dark so she turns her phone on, using it as a flashlight. She feels the air change and shivers. The room was empty and boring. Not a damn thing. With a sigh and some disappointment, she goes back up stairs.

Sherlock and John finish up, not talking. Sherlock was washing dishes and John comes up behind him, putting his hands in his hips. The taller man pulls away, going upstairs. By the time John gets finished and upstairs, Sherlock was already in bed and asleep. John changes, getting in next to him.

He makes no attempt to get closer to his partner or to wake him up. He just lays there, staring at the ceiling. This was it. Their new home. Their new life. Their new beginning.

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**A/N: I need your help. First help me with reviews on what you think. Second, what happened to Sherlock? What was the tragic event that changed him forever? Give me some ideas and I promise to update fast. If you don't, I will update slowly. ;)**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Wow, so much feedback and love! Thank you all so much. Now, on to the story.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing, period.**

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Charlie swung on her bag, grabbing her lunch. Sherlock kisses her head, waving goodbye. She leaves and he sighs, beginning to clean. John was out shopping so Sherlock was all alone. He began to dust the walls, disgusted by it.

"You're gonna die in here." A voice says behind him. The defective jumps whipping around. It was a pale girl with long black hair. Sherlock could tell by her face that she had down syndrome.

"What the hell are you doing in my house and h ow did you get in here?!" He yells, reaching for his cellphone.

"Adeline, where are you? Adeline?" A older woman with blond hair wonders in, her eyes lighting up when she sees the girl. "Addy, what happened? I put on Blues Clues for you."

"But I don't like that show!" Adeline wines, stomping her foot. Sherlock rolls his eyes.

"Well, too bad. Now go and stop harassing the neighbors." Addy nods, leaving. The woman turns to Sherlock, a cheesy smile across her face. "I'm Constance Langdon." She says, sticking her hand out.

"Sherlock Holmes." He answers, taking it. "Um, why was your daughter in my house and how did she get in?"

"My little Addy has always had a thing with this house. She will always find a way in, I guarantee you."

"Guess I'd better get a good security system." The tall man grumbles under his breath. "Let me guess, you're the neighbor?"

"Yes, how did you know?"

"Lucky guess." Sherlock answers with a quick shrug and smirk. "So are you going to really tell me what happened in this house over a cup of tea, or are you going to lie to my face like the damn sales woman?"

"I'll take the tea." Constance answers and Sherlock leads her into the kitchen. She sits down, taking out her cigarette pack and lighter.

"May I smoke in here?"

"Of course." Sherlock puts the kettle on and she smiles.

"I like you, Mr. Holmes." She says, taking a drag of her cigarette.

"Sherlock, please. And why?"

"Because you're so calm and charming, compared to that other awful couple who had lived here before you." She frowns, remembering them. The only good outcome of them being here was that the house was gorgeous now.

"Yes, tell me about them." Sherlock says filling two tea cups and sitting down. He took a sip of the hot liquid and so did Constance.

"Well, they were a gay couple. Chad and Patrick, I believe. They were happy a first, but then began fighting."

"Over?"

Each other, well other men. You see, Patrick wasn't a very loyal partner.

"You're telling me." Sherlock scoffs, thinking of his disloyal partner. "How did they die exactly?"

"No idea, bodies were never found."

"Interesting." Sherlock purrs with a smile.

"Yes, but no one really liked them or cared really." Another cigarette drag. "But they did find two mutilated male bodies in the lake that were identified as them."

"But the police weren't sure?"

Aren't." She corrects. "They just said it to be done with the whole thing."

"Who do you think killed them? Honestly."

"No idea, but no one else has died so I couldn't care less. I have a feeling it was on of Patrick's lover's though who had gotten jealous, then took matters into his own hands. Because love makes us do crazy things."

Isn't that the truth?" The curly haired man takes a sip of his tea, sighing.

"Tell me about yourself, Sherlock. You are clearly British, so what brought you here all the way to L. A.?"

"My husband, John, had cheated on me. Also, a whole bunch of other issues. So we decided to move her to try to start over."

"That's a shame. My husband just walked out on nut, but you know what? I don't miss him. Not a damn bit." She finishes her cigarette, pulling out another. She offers Sherlock o be and he gladly takes it. "Whta does your husband do and do you have any children?"

"He's a doctor, but he's writing a few medical books. One was a best seller and he's writing his second now "

"That's interesting. How about children?"

"I have one daughter, Charlotte. She's sixteen. Today was her first day of school."

"I have Addy, and three other children. Tate his my only other child who still sticks around. He's Charlie's age."

"I better watch out then." Sherlock chuckles, blowing the smoke out of his mouth.

"He's a good boy and won't hurt your little girl."

"He better not because Charlie is my life." Sherlock answers sadly. Constance nods, standing up.

"Well, I'd better go home now. It was a pleasure meeting you, Sherlock." He waves and she leaves. Sherlock sighs, exhausted.

* * *

Charlie walks up the stairs, double checking her cigarettes were hidden. She walks in the house, surprised to smell cigarette smoke already. Sherlock was in the kitchen, making dinner.

"Uh, Dad, why dies it smell like cigarettes in here?" She asks and he turns.

"Oh the neighbor, Constance, came over and we shared a few." He answers simply. "How was school?"

"Crappy, the kids suck ass!" She rolls her eyes.

"I'm sorry, baby. Here." He hands her a sandwich and a coke. "Go into your room, eat, then take a nap. I'll wake you up for dinner, alright?"

"Okay." He kisses her head and she takes the food, heading upstairs. She plops onto her bed, putting her ear buds in. She stands up, www walking up to the window. Her room was on the second story. She couldn't get down or sneak out, unless she wanted to fall and break her neck. She curses, just wanting a cigarette.

She grabs a coat, stuffing a pack into her pocket. She opens the door, yelling that she was leaving, and closing the door before her Dad could answer back or protest. She walks for a few minutes, standing behind a building. She lights the cigarette, putting it in her mouth.

A random dude had sold the pack to her for a few bucks. Charlie had learned how the American money system had worked weeks before they had moved here. She hated her new school and it's shitty students and teachers. She closes her eyes, letting her mind relax.

"Hey, you shouldn't smoke you know." A male voice jokes and she jumps. It was a boy, about her age with blue eyes and blond hair. "Hi, I'm Tate."

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**A/N: Yes, of course I have the sweet and sexy Tate! Review and wait for chapter two.**


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